Walking With Phantoms
by Sorcerer's Familiar
Summary: If but fate chose another heart to feel some mercy on that day, another warrior with which a abandoned boy may walk the paths of a dangerous world. Instead of a calm fury, a living ghost by his side. But is there deeper things beyond flesh and fear?......


I do not own Claymore, Miria, Raki or any of its related characters or copyrights. These are the property of Norihiro Yagi, Jump Square, Madhouse Studios, Viz media and their respective affiliates.

(To my readers, please forgive the very cramped presentation of this document as the editing capabilities leave little choice otherwise.)

_Claymore_

_Walking With Phantoms_

How could he be so stupid? That was the fundamental question. The dusty plains and hills having long since yielded to dark earth and forest canopy, the two figures trekked onward. Two together, yet of different worlds. One taller, female, bedecked in grey and silver, possessed of an inhuman nature; the other slighter, male, young and occupied with the past. Tentatively glancing to the world of greens and browns, his gaze always returned to the figure in front as she pressed onward. Usually, he would find himself mixed with curiosity and the awe of simply sharing her company, but these seemed a distant, warm memory if compared to what he now felt. Returning to that bitter contemplation, he was vexed over how he could have been so stupid that time...........

What his thought's returned to, like an aching wound, constantly was a confrontation between the two a few days ago. Well........not really a confrontation, or argument, but a few cold words that had been born of frustration, of heat and his too quick mouth. She had given instruction, in her fashion, and he had answered, but had given too quickly in question as to why she must always be so commanding, perhaps even imperious, in her voice. Looking back, this would have been enough but he carried on to even say that he wasn't like her peers, that she couldn't command him as she did with others.............To this, she had answered with a cool, considered voice; a voice that had brought realisation, perhaps for the first time, galloping over him.

Yes. She did not have the power of command over him.

But, in turn, nor did she have any obligation to him or his welfare.

Those words had lingered with him; his own and her response rolling around inside his mind as the days passed, a cloud seeming to have lingered above them as they barely spoke and it often seemed as if she found him more of an afterthought. His actions had continued as habit dictated, but they seemed brittle now, without the colour or meaning that had usually animated his rituals as they passed from place to place. This barrier that had fallen had remained so and it was his bitter recollections that had held him since then. In fact, to him, it seemed that the distance between them had grown, perhaps even unbridgeable, leading to something that frightened him somewhat. He feared that she would, soon, forsake him, leaving him alone once again alone; solitary in the wilds and wilderness of the world, and in his own mind, once more. Yet, why not? Her words were true; she did not have any obligation to him and could leave in an instant, with himself probably never to see her again. And, in a sense of dull fear, he felt that moment was drawing close with each step they took. What little thought that did not linger on that regret and fear was occupied with the odd heat that had come over him; a warmth that prickled his skin and seemed to cloud his chest with a weight not known before. His appetite had failed him too and he found himself more thirsty, his hands unsteady as he mopped at a damp brow, even in the relative shade of the forested world; hidden from the sun's touch and heat.

The hours passing as they kept pace, the light had begun to die as they stopped before heading onward again. The shadows growing deep as the last light melted away and the first sounds of rising night could be heard. Dusk had passed as they settled in a clearing, the canopy above opening to a clear sky, still tinged with some vestigial violet from a vanished sun, and the first twinkling's of the stars above. Momentarily lost in that sight, she had reminded him to set things up as she sparked a fire and he soon had prepared for rest; albeit a bit slower than usual. For a time they shared each other's company in a heavy silence; the sounds of the forest dull and distant as the flames crackled and spat. It hung heavy in his mind as this ritual played out, still so seemingly alien to him; not knowing what to say or do as to mend what, possibly, could not be. Stifling a sigh, he chewed more upon the beef, its flavour seeming to have ebbed as his tongue seemed dry and a bit swollen. Putting it down to simple weariness and strain, he finished it with an effort and downed his remaining water quickly. After that, the time passed seemingly slower; occasionally punctuated as he shifted or fed another twig into the dancing flames. She remained as she was in her rest. Sitting silently, legs curled slightly as one ivory hand lay upon her hip; the other leaning across it, fingers half curled as smooth, dispassionate features remained still, perhaps in contemplation or musing upon some other thing.

This pained rite of shade and moonlight, crackling fire and silence drew to a close as the pale warrior lifted platinum eyes and asked if maybe he should think about getting to bed, as he had a difficult walk tomorrow. Swallowing, his throat still so dry, he nodded and prepared to retire for the night; his thoughts faltering over as her precise words bounced around his head, like a whisper of what was to come. At last putting his head down, his brow half sunk into the pillow as he cast a tired, heavy gaze over his little world. The night, forest rustling around and above, the fire and her.........It occurred to him that, from this place, she seemed just a little more human than usual. Maybe it was the fire affording a warmer complexion, or the faint scent she left. His glazed eyes slowly finding more of this as he beheld a set of her foot prints; the earth receding under the slender, feminine contours to leave their mark while the jumping crimson and gold mingled with her silver eyes; an alchemy creating a seemingly warm brilliance in her gaze. He sighed, feeling a strange mix of fear, melancholy, weariness and odd sickness. He hoped it would pass tonight, maybe just being a passing affliction that laid him low for the moment..............Of course, his thoughts were not truly with that but with her, and the deep, cold possibility that, when he awoke, she would not be there. Simply gone from him, and vanished back into the world, upon which he may never see her again...........

His eyes, heavy and sluggish, were drawing too heavy; his limbs filled with a familiar warmth as he slowly succumbed to sleep. The shapes and colours, scents and sensations mingling and warping as darkness overtook him. His last sight that of the ivory warrior as she slowly peered up from the flames to quietly set her eyes upon him. That image lingering before the world melted away.

The realm of dreams can be kind, can be sweet but can also yield to the unforgiving and cruel. His mind plunged and rose, shaken and tossed as fear stained his sleeping world. His dreams were of the past, smeared like blood and viscera across his memories. His youth, his family, their death at the hands of the yoma who took his brother's face and form. He remembered his banishment to the wastes; hot, dry and burning.......wanderings that ended as he collapsed.......yet afforded a vision beyond the sand and wind, a fluttering grey and dull silver......then nothing.......

He recalled the village in which he awoke, the forest and ambush........saved once more by a phantom of silver with flesh like moon stone; her blade and form a deadly mirage which had delivered him from death a second time. He felt the quick, hot joy again.........a drop of bitter sweetness as she consented with cool words............their journeys and travels across the lands............Yet his mind was restless and haunted, fearful and hounded.............He felt a growing pain and heat..........a smothering sensation which he feared would drive him mad as the pain and heat torn his dreams apart; a chaos of the mind as his sleeping journey turned poisonous and fractured.........

The past bled into the present, like colours oozing and dripping upon a wet canvas then tossed in a storm. He wondered if he was dying...........if what he had known was real.............was it? Was he still in the desert, dying, burnt and mad...........had his saviour been a spasm of a fractured mind?...............Had all the travels been an illusion, unreal, not true.............Was she death?.................Yes...........or..........no...........Yes...........Was she death, the mantle of ebony lent to grey and silver, the scythe made into a sword and her face; just a mask of flesh and skin under which that perpetually grinning countenance waited to unveil itself.........Yes...........it had to be the truth...............Was not her very name, her legend one entwined with the ghostly and illusionary?...........Like a cruel jest or mocking testament to what she really was....................It was said too that Death did occasionally lend itself to caprice. Plunging into the living world to take those who had died and escort them to the afterlife, even when those souls did not know of their own demise.............perhaps taking a kindly visage and voice before the realisation dawned and the veils fell away as the reaper made itself known...................Yes............There was no rescue, no kindness, no journey and no Claymore. There was only death's mockery and illusion upon a ill fated soul, now drawn forward to the beyond. The cold, crushing image only fed his burgeoning madness as he spiralled deeper and deeper into the dreaming terror.................

Forever it seemed to last, this storm of dancing terror and illusion as his past melted away and his present was smeared beyond recognition. It was suddenly that the world around seemed to streak before erupting, like breaking the surface of black water from below...........a feverish, deranged consciousness returning as he saw and felt something upon him. Beyond, the world was a blur of darkness but filling his gaze was her form. That shape seemed to fill him with an almost animal fear as he weakly writhed and struggled, burning tears streaming down his cheeks as hot bile and sickness flowed from his lips...........This living nightmare unending, he suddenly felt her slender hands close firmly around his cheeks as her face drew closer. Wondering if this was the moment of revelation, where those slender contours and auburn framed visage would melt away to reveal the bone white of Death, he found the time did not come...........he features remained; strained and focused, as her silver eyes bore into his. As if trying to instil some message, she eventually spoke but he couldn't hear her; just the roar of blood and the pounding of his heart before he felt the pull of exhaustion. Unable to resist the force of his body calling, he found the world growing distant again; her face falling away as the darkness surged in all around and he knew nothing for a time...........

He felt something. Something strange yet growing in familiarity as he slowly awoke; his head and eyes hurting terribly as the sky opened before him, the moon looming high and bright. Disorientated and lost, he struggled for a moment as he found himself up to his ribs in water; a river all around as a lean, strong arm pressed to his stomach. It was then that water splashed his hot, pained features; borne by a slender hand which repeated the gesture until his face was doused and it then pressed firmly against his burning brow. More awake, he wondered what was happening as the river flowed around him and someone was holding him up without seeming exertion; his feet not meeting the river bed where as his companion's surely must. Feeling them press into his back, he remembered and knew it was her..............but why were they here?...............was this the afterlife, were they waiting upon the ferry man to take him beyond to the next world?...............He didn't understand and didn't have the strength to struggle, thus being held limply for a time. He looked up at the sky..........and he said something...........he asked, in a weak voice, if she was death; if she had come to claim him and take his soul, if she was but a phantom wearing a mask of living silver over ancient bone.........For a time she didn't answer and, soon, he felt himself losing consciousness and his head pressed forward into her palm............

He knew nothing and dreamed of nothing, yet something beyond the veil slowly pulled him back into the world. Eyes creeping open, the canopy rustled overhead; a dull morning sky above and, somewhere, a bird cried out. His body hurt and he felt terrible, but was aware of a renewed clarity to his thoughts; something lacking in days past as he slowly, with aching bones, rose to sit and looked around. He knew that he was naked beneath the blanket as he saw the remains of the fire, though she appeared to be missing no matter where he looked. His head heavy, he let it droop before flopping back into his pillow. Groaning with dry lips, he closed his eyes and wished the ache within would leave him. It was then a shadow passed over him and he slowly opened his eyes to find her peering down, a cool expression upon her face and a small canteen in her hand...............Bewildered, he watched as she sat down beside him; giving over the canteen and watched as the herb treated water flowed across wanting lips. His thirst sated, he carefully looked upon his benefactor, bewildered as to what happened last night though a faint memory of a deathly spectre loomed for a moment...............

Slowly, the events of the evening came clear. It had seemed that he had fell to a dangerous fever, her suspicions growing by the time he fell asleep. Having grown delirious and sick, she had tended to him as he struggled; arriving at a decision to treat him as he lapsed between consciousness and fractured dreams. Eventually, she had tried to bring his temperature down by sinking herself and him in a nearby river. His fever breaking, she had kept him cool as he had come around........though, delirious, he had imagined her as Death itself leading him to away from the world. Unconscious, she had taken him back and tended to him until morning light.

The story unravelling, he did feel angry and embarrassed with himself for his words; knowing that his anxiety and fear had pulled their weight too. Downing the last of the water, he wondered if he had hurt her or wounded her spirit with letting his words, a splice of disease and fear even so, out in the open. She did not seem offended or downcast......though in truth, he had never seen her as such or known her to show it. Still..........he desired to apologise, to voice his regret over the argument, this sudden burden and everything that had preceded it. He would have said so as she watched yet, with cool words she spoke first.

She spoke of his fear that she would abandon him, her words even now stirring some icy pangs in him. As if she knew now, she spoke quietly and somewhat softly as he watched those silver eyes and pale lips; wondering if this might be the moment of revelation. Yet, it was not. Nor would be. She spoke of her learning, of coming to grips with a nature that was so long in her past yet alive once more in her young companion..............something she was still discovering, as she was sure he was trying to know her somewhat better. Though, she warned him of those dangers; life for her kind could be brutally short or long lasting and growing close would reap great pain in the future should they part or she were to fall in battle............ These words held him with some gravity, a faint breeze playing with her hair as he nodded slowly. She observed him for a few moments before peering at the canopy and sky above, sensing a faint scent of some unseen flower as she returned her gaze to the boy. She spoke once more. He watched and listened silently as those words flowed from her lips; sounds he never wholly believed possible coming from her. Yet, still they came...........

No. She did not regret that fateful decision in the desert............nor her answer in that forest............nor even guiding him on the path they now walked. The words hung before him like a dull revelation. Yes, she admitted the words were only air and sound, but the intent behind them was no illusion. Silent after her words, Raki fell quiet; she left wondering if perhaps she might have come across coldly............then, something rather odd happened.

In one sudden movement, he stretched forth one thin, lean hand and covered her own; the boy's sun skimmed flesh juxtaposed against the moon paleness of her own. It was sudden and unexpected; an alien gesture that was tentative and weak, but meaningful. She did not pull away nor throw it off, yet just looked at it and the sensation of his warmth. A silence held and, slowly and carefully, she raised her fingers through his to give a gentle squeeze. For a time, there was a tranquillity which both seemed to feel; both quietly affirming in each other some measure of intention and will. Or perhaps just simply being thankful that the vicissitudes of life had entwined their own and, in this, they were at least content with each other..........come what may, at least this seemed to be real as Miria and Raki exchanged that silent understanding.

The End.


End file.
